


things can only get worse from here on

by ruinemavie



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Confessions, M/M, TW for mentions of self loathing, i made myself cry writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruinemavie/pseuds/ruinemavie
Summary: Quick one shot that stemmed from a thought of Kurapika losing his mind while sitting in a bath and drinking wine. I'm very sorry for this one (not really)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	things can only get worse from here on

The first thing that Kurapika noticed about his cramped hotel bathroom was how clean everything was. White tiles adorned the floor and were cold on his bare feet, patterns of tile after tile reaching up and extending to the pothole lights carved into the ceiling. The lights flickered with a bright, superficial glow that gave the room an overall clinical feel.

That night, Kurapika was not in a good state of mind. He hadn’t been for as long as he could remember, but tonight every little thing seemed to be a reminder of his constantly declining will to live. His black coat shed off his shoulders and fell to the floor in the bathroom doorway with a soft thud of constrictive fabric on tile. In his hand, the precariously thin stem of a wine glass balanced between his slender index finger and middle finger. In his right hand-the one with a heavy bulk of chains and rings and cold, cold steel-he gripped a wine bottle like a lifeline, keeping his hands from shaking as if tethering him in reality.

Kurapika could see hazy flashes in his mind and wondered, for longer than he would like to admit, how it would feel to just watch as the wine glass fell to the floor and smashed in irreparable bits at his feet. He also wondered how the glass would feel as it cut into the open flesh of his feet, trailing red pearls down the otherwise smooth and pale soles.

He let his bangs fall forward and stick against his sweat slicked forehead and set the glass and bottle on the rim of his bathtub. The small basin was white as well and was compactedly wedged between the two walls of his five-feet (length wise) bathroom. The shower curtain had been long gone, seemingly ripped off it’s holder as the rings and rod were still in place above the tub. Kurapika straightened up from crouching over the tub and turned on the water, running it to as cold as it could go. He figured he was paying the crappy hotel a favor seeing as they were running low on hot water. Maybe he was just making up excuses at this point. He made his way over, in three slow steps, to the bathroom counter and let his arms fall dully to his side like a ragdoll as he lifted his head to look properly in the mirror.

Kurapika had forgotten how the slopes of his face went, forgotten the feel of weathered yet warm hands spread over his once-soft cheeks as they cupped them lovingly. He reached shaking hands up to his gaunt skin and tried to recreate the sentiment, leaving only bloody trails down his face where his fingers met pale tissue. His eyes were lifeless, a murky grey with hooded lids that fell over his eyes with a sleepiness that threatened to consume him whole. Even with his contacts abandoned, Kurapika didn’t think he could muster up a shining amber hue even if he tried. He was no longer angry. Just empty.

The skin under his eyes was a deep bruising purple color that contrasted his ashen complexion giving him a corpse-like reflexion. His lips were dry and cracked, set in an everlasting line of grim resolution and seriousness. If he looked too closely at his reflection, he could see his parent’s lifeless faces with the warmth sucked out of them. The visual made him sick, nausea creeping up his throat at the sight of himself in the mirror. He gripped the sides of the sink and looked down into the sink, willing his stomach to settle and for his head to purge the tormentful thoughts.

Kurapika was eerily aware of his heart’s beating, every pulse laced with the bitterness of having to be alive and alone. He stiffened for a moment when a droplet of water splashed down into the sink and thought for a joyous moment that it was his own pair of eyes creating the stream. It took him a beat before he realized it was only his hair dripping the remnants of his earlier tassel with rich swines that deserved the cruelest deaths dealt by his own bound hand. Kurapika watched with a strange sense of calm as the sink drained itself slowly, gurgling noises drowned out by the cascade of the bath’s even flow.

He pointedly avoided his own hateful gaze in the mirror as he shuffled over to the tub once more, running his numb hand under the frigid water. He didn’t know how long he kept his hand there but he finally retracted it once his fingers started turning an alarming shade of purple-blue and the rim of the tub was nearly met with the freezing water. He turned the basin knob counterclockwise until the flow of water came to a halt, filling the room with an even more overwhelming, thrumming silence.

Kurapika kept on his black dress pants and white, long-sleeved dress shirt, completely unbothered by the thought of bathing in the water fully clothed. The attire he had to wear to his job had soon become familiar rather than stuffy. He hadn’t worn his clan’s robes in over half a year now and had begun to forget what they too felt like against his skin. The ornate robes hung on a hanger in his small closet, the once sacred garb gathering dust as it waited for the time to come to be worn again. Kurapika didn’t know if that time would ever come again.

He swung his foot over into the bathtub and watched as it sunk into the bottom, weightless. He lowered his whole body in after it, loosely registering the deathly cold water as it attacked his defenseless skin from all angles. Kurapika paid the pain no heed and welcomed it as he sunk lower into the tub, ends of his hair floating lifelessly in the water as he sunk down to his shoulders. His hair, which had once been a radiant golden color, was starting to take on a tired gray undertone and brushed the tops of his knotted and tight shoulders, coiled stiff with stress.

He was ready to let the water slip all the way over his face, anticipating the feel of frigid needles stabbing into every pore and making his open eyes feel as though they were being scooped out of their sockets when his phone rang with a tinny urgency. Kurapika pushed a resigned sigh out of his mouth and sat up in the tub, feeling like he’d hit the lowest low of his life. He towelled off his hands only and let his wet hair curl in tendrils around with face as he made a grab for his disruptive phone balancing on the rim of the tub beside the glass and bottle.

Kurapika didn’t intend on picking up the phone but as soon as he saw the caller identification, his mind reeled and he pressed the answer button through instinct. He could hear static on the other end and waited for the caller to speak first, not wanting to be the first to break the silence.

“Kurapika,” a soft voice breathed out. He didn’t deserve someone to talk to him like that, with so much longing in their voice.

“Leorio,” he responded flatly, not a trace of emotion discernible in his tone. He reached over for the wine glass and poured himself a generous cup of the deep red liquid as he held his phone up to one ear with his shoulder.

“You picked up for once.” Kurapika let that sink in. He didn’t feel bad. He didn’t feel anything, he reminded himself. There was not a trace of the butterflies that once swarmed in his stomach at the sound of the doctor’s voice, berating and soothing and familiar all in one warm tone that Kurapika knew like his own voice.

“What do you want, Leorio,” Kurapika took a sip from his glass and swirled the drink around carelessly, letting some wine slosh over the edge of his cup into the water below him. The two fluids met with an explosion as the once clear water began to take on a hazy red that reminded him of blood. He began to feel sick again but downed his drink as fast as he could.

“I’ve been calling you every day for a year, Kurapika,” his voice broke and Kurapika could hear a strangled breath. “A _year_.”

Kurapika hated that tone. He set his glass on the floor with a brusque motion and tightened his fist around his phone.

“I didn’t ask you to, Leorio.” he snarled into his phone.

“Yeah, and that’s the problem.” The man laughed with mirth on the other end. Kurapika could make out the expression he was probably wearing; disbelief, anger, resignation. Disappointment. “I thought I meant more to you.”

“This isn’t about me,” Kurapika could hear his voice raise as it got louder.

“It’s always about you, Kurapika! My life has _always been about you_.” He could hear a muffled slam and a grunt as the man hit his fist into what Kurapika assumed was most likely a desk.

Kurapika pursed his lips. “You should stop. I don’t want to hear any more.”

“You don’t want to hear any more? _You_?” Leorio laughed. Or sobbed. Kurapika wasn’t sure. “Kurapika, you’re a selfish, uptight _bastard_ who only gives a shit about himself. I hate you with all my fucking heart.” He was definitely sobbing this time as Kurapika strained to make out his next sentence.

“But you know what? I think I’ve always been in love with you.”

Kurapika’s hands shook and he leaned his head against the wall, feeling the hard tile behind his skull.

“Shut up.” he commanded weakly and hated his pathetic voice.

“No. I won’t, Kurapika. I love you.”

“Shut _UP_!” Kurapika screamed into his phone and threw his wine glass as hard as he could against the bathroom door, watching it splinter to a million fractured pieces before his eyes. The sound it made left his ears ringing and Leorio grew silent on the other end of the line.

“Leorio,” Kurapika demanded shakily. “I don’t want you to call me ever again. If I ever see your number appear on my screen, I will not pick up. Sever your ties with me right now and make this easier for the both of us.”

“Kurapika,” his voice was bleeding out with worry and fear. “Please, don’t do this to me again. I can’t go through losing you again.”

“You never had me to begin with,” Kurapika snipped angrily, brows furrowing.

Leorio laughed and then cried, all in one shaky breath, before responding. “You’re right, we had each other.”

Kurapika could feel his bottom lip tucking under his top lip at this, repressing the soft, yearnful gasp that so desperately wanted to fight it’s way out of his robbed mouth. He bit his lip and drew blood instead, feeling closer to tears than he had in years.

“Leorio, I’m going to hang up,” he warned, not sure if he was talking to himself or the doctor more.

“Don’t,” Leorio pleaded and his wrecked voice left Kurapika feeling more guilty than killing ever had. “Please, _don’t_.”

“Goodbye, Leorio.” Kurapika savored his words, knowing they’d be the last ones before his only last reason to live was gone as well. “I loved you with every piece of my broken, toxic heart.”

He forced his finger to hit the end call button as fast as he could, summoning the most willpower he’d ever had to use in his life as he ripped the final thorn out of his heart. His phone rang once, twice and thrice before he reached over and shut it off for good. Kurapika sat back in the bath once more, staring up at the ceiling before he felt tears flow fast and hard down his face.

He brought his hands up to his streaked face and gaped at his wetted hands in twisted awe at how overcome by an absolute, impending sadness he was. He could feel himself pitching forward and suddenly his frail body was wracking in silent sobs. Kurapika wrapped his arms around himself and scrunched his eyes shut, feeling the indescribable urge to do something but not knowing what anymore.

There was nothing left in Kurapika’s cold, miserable life. He had cut off every last tie with anyone he’d ever known and loved. He was completely alone, a slave to his treacherous body that beat him and wore him down to the breaking point with no mercy. He would never escape his worst enemy- himself.

The self loathing was too much and he doubled over into the water, no longer caring about trivial things like the crampedness of the tub. His soul cried out in pain while his desperate voice cried out for Leorio, the only person in the world whoever made him feel happy. He’d caused the loving man so much pain and it was all, all Kurapika’s fault.


End file.
